Reflective Triangles
by happycabbage75
Summary: Sam and Dean try to help a woman who’s lost nearly everything, but being Good Samaritans might cost them even more...
1. Chapter 1

**Reflective Triangles**

Summary: Sam and Dean try to help a woman who's lost nearly everything, but being Good Samaritans might cost them even more…

_The things we do to keep ourselves amused until the new season starts…_

Chapter One

* * *

"If that poor girl didn't have bad luck, she'd have no luck at all."

The waitress watched through the diner window along with Sam and Dean as a young woman with long blonde hair loaded several bags of groceries into an old, beat-up car. She was very, very pregnant, no more than a few weeks away from delivering. As they continued to watch, she got in and tried repeatedly to get the car to start, then finally gave up. Looking like she would burst into tears at any moment, she put both hands on the steering wheel and laid her head against them.

"See what I mean?" the waitress said, shaking her head.

Dean threw some money on the table and was already half-way to the door before the waitress had finished speaking.

"Bad luck?" Sam asked casually, watching as Dean approached the woman's driver side window and tapped on it. The young woman jumped, startled by the noise and eyed Dean who motioned for her to roll the window down.

"She lost half her family in that accident. Not that any of them were speaking to her, but still…"

"Why weren't they speaking to her?" Sam asked, his eyes still on his brother.

Dean was being carefully unthreatening. He was wearing his most sincere, helpful smile and Sam could see the woman responding, nodding and wiping her tears away. Dean opened the door and offered her a hand to help her out of the car. She rose, not gracefully, but Dean didn't seem to mind, no sign of his tell-tale smirk in evidence. Give Dean a damsel in distress and he turned into a gentleman. Sometimes.

"Her family shunned her after she got married," the waitress explained. "Nearly killed the poor girl, but then I guess that's the idea."

Dean had his arm supporting the woman's elbow and began escorting her toward the Impala. He briefly looked up at Sam and jerked his head for him to join them.

"Guess she needs a ride," Sam said, almost to himself. He thanked the waitress again and hurried out of the diner.

As Sam stepped outside, another man walked up to Dean and the woman he was helping. The man was older, in his 50s maybe, dressed in jeans and a plain shirt, his graying hair cut precisely. Nothing special, but there was something about it all that was a little more upscale than the rest of the people they'd seen in town.

"Are you all right, Hannah?" he asked.

Sam saw the woman stiffen and very slightly back away from the man, closer to Dean. Dean couldn't fail to notice and put his arm around her, moving her away so that he was between her and the man.

"She's fine," Dean said, his smile still in place, though it was now closer to brittle. Instinctively, Sam came to stand on the woman's other side, feeling like they'd just become guard dogs. The man hadn't done a thing, but the woman's reaction was unmistakable. "Just having a little car trouble," Dean added.

"You need a ride home?" the man asked, all concerned friendliness. "It's on my way."

"No, thank you, Mr. Kane," she answered, her voice stronger than Sam had expected. "These gentlemen have already offered to help."

"I go right by your house," he pressed. "As a matter of fact, I was really hoping to speak with you again."

The woman's expression froze. "I've already given you my answer, Mr. Kane. There's nothing left to talk about."

Anger, fury really, crossed the other man's face and Sam saw Dean shift slightly readying himself to take the man down if necessary.

"Be reasonable, Hannah," he said, almost an order. "I've spoken with the bank. You know it's the best thing to do."

"No," she answered calmly. "I don't."

"Yes, you do," Kane replied as if he could force her to his way of thinking just by repetition.

Hannah took a steadying breath. "I would _give_ that land away before I would sell it to _you_."

Sam moved fractionally closer to the woman. Whatever was going on, it was not good and it was personal.

"You wouldn't," the other man said, barely containing the rage boiling just below the surface. "You need the money."

"Don't ask me again," she said straightly. "There's no point in it. I will _never_ sell it to you."

For just a second, Sam thought the guy really was going to go ballistic. Dean must have thought the same thing because he quickly pushed Hannah behind him and he and Sam closed ranks in front of her.

"I think you've got your answer," Dean said. His voice was still level, but his expression said Kane had better get himself somewhere else. _Fast_. "You should leave now."

"Fine," Kane said, his face reverting to its earlier bland politeness. He turned on his heel and stalked away toward a car parked several spaces down.

Sam and Dean moved apart, sharing an incredulous _what have we stepped in now?_ glance, but Dean's attention was drawn back when the woman sagged into his side as if she'd just fought a battle that neither of the men understood.

"I guess I need to thank you twice," she sighed tiredly.

"That guy the local Welcome Wagon?" Dean asked, looking in the direction of the man's departing vehicle. Sam knew he was cataloguing the plate and vehicle description for future reference.

"Something like that," she frowned, also watching the car as it left.

"Been bothering you?" Sam asked, not sure whether she would want to tell them or not.

"You could say that." She raised an eyebrow. "But at the moment, I'm really more concerned about getting off my feet."

Dean started at the gentle reminder and once again began ushering her toward the car. "Sorry," he said with a chagrinned smile. "We're just a couple of bachelors. Not really up on pregnant lady etiquette." He pulled the keys from his pocket and threw them to Sam for him to open the door for her.

"It's ok. I won't explode," the woman laughed at their speedy, tag-team approach.

"Sam, you wanna grab her groceries?"

She blushed in embarrassment. "Sorry to be so much trouble."

"No trouble," Sam replied, hurrying to pull the bags from the other car's back seat. He met Dean's eyes. Especially if it meant keeping her away from whoever that guy was. Dean nodded in agreement.

"This is my brother, Sam, by the way," Dean said, settling her into the passenger seat. Sam realized his brother was still using the careful tone geared specifically for skittish women and children. Dean was working overtime to keep her at ease, although she seemed to be showing only the normal amount of nervousness for a woman getting into a car with two strange men.

"Can we call you a tow truck?" Sam asked, using his own version of the voice, but she shook her head.

"I'd prefer Hannah actually."

Dean laughed, thoroughly charmed, and Sam had to roll his eyes. Great. Someone else with Dean's sixth grade humor.

"I'll call from the house," she assured him. "Bob's towed it enough lately that he knows the car on sight."

Sam climbed into the back and only half-listened as the woman gave directions, guiding them out of the small town and out into the country. After several minutes, Dean slowed the car. Sam looked up and was surprised to see an old-fashioned horse and buggy in front of them. Dean gave the carriage plenty of space as he passed it.

The one horse buggy was a smaller one. A bearded older man dressed in a plain black jacket and trousers held the reins. Sam could see two young boys riding beside the man, dressed in black trousers held up by suspenders over plain white shirts. All three were wearing straw hats.

"Is there a large Amish community around here?" Dean asked their passenger.

"A few thousand between this county and the next," she answered. "You know much about them?"

Dean shrugged. "Just what you see in the movies."

She smiled, a tad lopsidedly, Sam noticed. "Not quite like the movies, but you get the idea. No electricity, no modern conveniences, plain dress."

"It's the buttons I'd miss," Dean said. "And zippers."

"Much too showy," she shook her head, "but trust me, it's the indoor plumbing you'd miss first. Though I somehow get the feeling you'd be hard pressed to part with your car." She patted the dash for good measure.

"I'm trying to figure out how to take her with me when I go," Dean admitted conspiratorially. "Not sure how well Sammy can take care of her."

Sam flinched involuntarily. He met his brother's apologetic gaze in the rearview mirror. Sam could tell Dean had spoken without thinking and had surprised even himself. Sam sighed and gave him a wry smile in return. It was like a wound they just couldn't help picking at, even inadvertently. Dean, the deal, impending doom, etc. Try as they might, they couldn't seem to avoid the topic, but they couldn't seem to deal with it head on yet either.

Darkness was falling and they quietly watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, barns from farm after farm silhouetted by the dying light. Now that he knew what he was looking for, Sam noted that many of the homes had no phone or power lines running to them.

"Here," the woman finally said and pointed toward a long drive. Dean turned in and slowly drove up the gravel lane, mindful of the car's paintjob. As they came to a halt in front of the old farm house, the front door opened and a young man hurried toward them.

"Hannah? Honey, are you all right?" he asked as Sam helped her out of the car.

Hannah cast a quick look up at Sam and then to Dean, a hastily hidden troubled expression on her face, then turned to the man. "I'm fine, Paul," she said, the merest catch in her voice. "The car broke down and they gave me a ride home."

The woman's husband pulled her into his arms, as closely as he could, provided her very pregnant state. "Piece of junk," he said angrily. "I should have bought a new one years ago."

"It's all right," she whispered. "You know we can't afford that."

"I'm sorry," he said, and Sam could feel that he was apologizing for more than just the car.

"It's all right," she said again. Still leaning into his side, she turned so that they were all facing each other. "This is my husband, Paul."

"Nice to meet you." Dean hesitated and Sam wasn't quite sure why, but finally he held out his hand for the other man to shake. "I'm Dean."

"Sam." Sam, too, held out his hand.

"I appreciate you two helping my wife," Paul said earnestly. "She's… had a difficult time lately."

"You couldn't come get her?" Dean asked, no accusation in his tone, simply curious.

"No," the man said sadly, though he didn't offer any further explanation. Hannah looked up at him, her worry evident, then to Sam and Dean and then back again.

"We only have the one car," she answered for him. "We just have to make do between the two of us."

"I know how that is," Dean tried to reassure her. "Now, where can we put those groceries for you?"

"Just inside," she said, once again smiling gratefully.

Sam and Dean grabbed the bags and followed the couple toward the house. Along with Kane's near-threat about the bank and her problems with the car, the house bore witness to the couple's financial state. It was tidy, but ancient and looked like it was due for some repairs. Run-down, but loved, Sam thought. They followed the couple through the living room, the furniture once again tidy, but older, and then on into the kitchen where they quickly deposited the bags on the well-worn counter.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Hannah offered.

"Well…" Dean cleared his throat. Sam saw him look at Paul uneasily. "Sam and I should get going."

"We still need to find a place to stay tonight and it's getting late," Sam said, puzzled at Dean's reaction to the man.

"You know I'd be happy to take a look at your car for you," Dean said, surprising Sam yet again. "I work on them in my off time." He told the half-truth smoothly. "It might save you a little trouble." And money, was the unspoken addition.

For a moment, she looked at him warily, but beneath it they could both see her daring to hope that someone might be able to help her.

"It wouldn't be any problem at all," Sam told her. "Dean's happiest when he's elbow deep in motor oil." To be honest, Sam was more curious about Dean's real interest in helping the couple. Whatever it was it had certainly caught Dean's attention.

"That…" she hesitated again, but finally nodded. "That would be very nice of you."

"I'll run back to the diner in the morning and see if I can get it running well enough to bring it back here. Then I'll take a good look at her," Dean said.

"Thank you," she smiled, as if a burden had been taken from her shoulders.

"There's really just one thing I need to know," Dean told her.

"Yes?"

Dean's eyes shifted from Hannah to Paul and back again. "The real reason Paul couldn't come and pick you up…" Dean's tone was somber, grave even. "Hannah, how long has Paul been dead?"

* * *

_More tomorrow. Just as a random useless point of interest, many Amish do get to have buttons. The Elder in our county doesn't like them though. Everyone uses straight pins._


	2. Chapter 2

**Reflective Triangles**

Summary: Sam and Dean try to help a woman who's lost nearly everything, but being Good Samaritans might cost them even more…

_I completely forget to forswear any and all rights to anything _Supernatural_ related in the first chapter. My bad. I got nothin'. Now where were we… oh yes. Dead husband. _

Chapter Two

* * *

Hannah's eyes widened and shot toward her husband. The man's ghostly image flickered for the first time since they'd seen him and he stepped toward them menacingly. "Get out of my house!" Paul ordered. 

Sam's eyes darted between his brother and Paul as it instantly became clear why Dean was so interested. It also explained Dean's hesitation to shake the man's hand earlier. Dean had somehow known. For being a psychic, sometimes Sam thought his radar just sucked.

"We can help you," Dean said, his hands held out in a placating gesture.

"I don't care what you think you can do," Paul shot back. "Get out of my house!"

"Why don't you tell us what happened," Sam suggested. "We really can help."

"GET. OUT."

"Paul," the man's wife pleaded. "Paul, please."

He immediately stopped and turned to pull her into his arms. "I'm sorry, Hannah. So sorry. I just want to keep you safe. I just want you both to be safe."

"You think she's in real danger?" Dean frowned. Sam knew he was remembering that moment when they'd thought it was going to turn into a fistfight with Kane.

Paul turned toward them, the image of the man that had been flickering madly in his agitation. "I know she is."

"And you're sticking around to protect her," Sam stated.

"I have to keep her safe, no matter what," the man vowed.

"Why don't we sit down and you can explain all this to us," Dean said, and from his tone it wasn't a suggestion. Sam noticed his brother's fingers rubbing together and knew Dean was longing to have a weapon in hand. A ghost was a ghost even if he was trying to protect his wife. If Paul decided that _they_ were a danger to her, he could turn on them in an instant.

Paul eyed them, but after several more seconds, he complied, still keeping one arm around his wife as they all moved back into the living room. The couple sat together on the love seat and Sam and Dean took the sofa. Paul really was a _very_ real looking apparition. It was an amazing amount of energy for a ghost and Sam knew that is was sheer determination on Paul's part to keep his wife and child safe.

"You… you really can help us?" Hannah asked tentatively. "You know about… this sort of thing?"

"It's sort of our specialty," Sam answered. "If you can just tell us what's going on we'll do what we can."

"You don't mind that Paul's…"

"Dead is as dead does," Dean muttered only loud enough for Sam to hear.

Sam coughed to cover an embarrassed smile. "The waitress at the diner said your family… that you'd been having problems with your family," Sam gave them a place to begin.

Hannah smiled sadly, but didn't seem uncomfortable. "My family is Amish," she said.

Dean looked at her in astonishment, but Sam nodded. The waitress' shunning remark had made a lot more sense after they'd passed the buggy on the way here. If Hannah had chosen to leave the Amish way of life, her family wouldn't have had anything more to do with her. She'd have been shunned completely.

"But you're… you…" Dean didn't seem to know how to say it.

"No," she said. "No dress, no bonnet. I left it all to marry Paul. He and my father were business partners. Paul sold the furniture my father and brothers built. That's how we met."

"Your family wouldn't allow you to marry an outsider," Sam said.

"No," she replied. "Since I left, no one from the community will speak to me. They won't even acknowledge me," she explained. "Not my family, not anyone. My father told me that if I married Paul, I could never come back."

Sam felt like he'd been sucker-punched and he must have made some sort of sound or movement, because Dean suddenly shot him a concerned look. Talk about an old wound to sneak up on you at the oddest time.

"You haven't even spoken to them since?" Sam asked.

"I've been shunned and it just isn't allowed," she answered simply. "But before that we'd argued for years, fought and fought, until finally I left." Her expression became harder, more resolute. "I don't believe I can best serve the Lord by being cut off from the world around me. My father didn't understand that."

"Didn't?" Dean asked.

"There was an accident," she said simply. Paul's face became thunderous and his arm around his wife tightened.

"What kind of accident?"

"Along with everyone else, Father refused to sell anything else through Paul after we were married. There were still a few things left in the shop though and they occasionally had to meet to iron things out from… before. Father would stop his buggy at the foot of the drive and Paul would go out to meet him."

That explained why the couple was struggling. Their marriage had cost Hannah her family and Paul his business. "What happened?"

"The carriages all have bright orange safety triangles on the back that reflect in the dark. It should have been very visible," she said.

"It _was_ visible," Paul said angrily. "He purposely hit the buggy."

"Who?"

"Our neighbor, Martin Kane." He made the name sound ugly.

"The guy from outside the diner?" Dean asked.

"Martin was there?" Paul asked, turning to look at his wife. "Did he bother you? You can't trust him."

"It's all right." She motioned toward Sam and Dean. "They were very helpful."

"No one said anything about the accident?" Sam asked, trying to keep them from being distracted.

"Kane was very sorry. Said it was a terrible accident. He just didn't see the buggy in the dark," Paul explained.

"But you don't believe it," Dean said.

"I was there," Paul replied. "Not that I can tell anyone. They went to my funeral."

"How do you know it wasn't an accident?" Sam inquired.

"I saw him change direction to hit us," Paul said gravely. "He sped up."

"Why would he do that?" Sam asked, perplexed.

"The meek shall inherit the earth, unless you're willing to do something about it." Paul nodded for emphasis.

Dean frowned in confusion. "Come again?"

"We… the Amish commonly have families of a dozen children," Hannah said by way of explanation. "And we… they farm. That's what they do. They don't have to buy expensive tractors. They don't have to buy fancy houses, cars, pay for TVs, cell phones, computers, microwaves, jewelry or a million other 'necessities' that the rest of the world buys. They do buy land. Anything comes open in this area, they buy it. And they are willing to pay top dollar. They can outbid almost anyone. If you have half a dozen boys who are going to need land of their own to raise their families then that's what you have to do."

"He killed your father because he outbid him on some land?" Sam asked skeptically.

"No," Paul shook his head. "He killed Hannah's father, four brothers, and two sisters because he outbid him on a tract of land. Wasn't the first time he'd been outbid either."

"And you, Paul," she added quietly. "He killed you."

Sam and Dean were both silent, shocked by the enormity of the woman's loss. No wonder the waitress had talked about her bad luck.

"I don't think it was premeditated. I think Kane was angry. He came down the road, saw the triangle on the back of the buggy and ran at it like it was a target. He might even be sorry. But that doesn't change what he did. Or what he's done since. He cried at the funerals and then promptly approached Hannah's mother to try and buy the land just like he came to Hannah to try and buy this farm."

"Pardon me for saying so, but this land doesn't exactly look like a gold mine," Dean observed. "Why would he be willing to kill to get it?"

"It's not a gold mine," Paul said. "It's not sitting on oil. It's not going to be for a business or bought to build a road. It's just farmland."

"So…"

"So Mr. Kane is a powerful man, a rich man. He wants it and he doesn't like being told no." Hannah looked back and forth between them. "Have you never met someone who _cannot_ understand contentment? No matter how much they have, they _must_ have more."

Sam and Dean shared a glance. Neither of them owned more than the bare essentials. They had even less than what most people called the bare essentials. A bag, a couple of easily replaceable changes of clothes and a car to get them from place to place. That and a whole lot of things that said _Warning - Flammable_.

That said, while they weren't personally familiar with it, they'd run across it more times than they could count. Ghosts were born out of violent deaths. Greedy business partners, unfaithful spouses wanting someone other than who they already had, a rich guy wanting land he couldn't have. It all boiled down to the same thing. Somebody killed somebody else because one of them wanted more than they really needed. More. Had to have more.

"Well, we should get going," Dean said and stood. "I'll be back in the morning with the car."

Hannah also stood, though not as quickly. "I'll let you fix the car on one condition."

"What?" Dean asked cautiously.

"That you stay here. We have a guest room."

"We couldn't," Sam and Dean said together.

"Please. You have to let me do something to repay you," she said earnestly.

"We'll find a room in town," Dean said, but it was half-hearted at best.

"Really. There's no need," Sam added, wanting to smack Dean for weakening.

"It's the good old fashioned barter system," Hannah insisted. "You have to let me return the favor."

"Hannah, we can't-"

"It's a deal," Dean cut him off, smiling at the woman and ignoring Sam's barely hidden glare.

"Wonderful," she beamed.

"You're sure?" Dean asked, eyeing Paul. Hannah's husband, Sam noted, was barely paying them any mind. All his attention was on his wife. Ghosts weren't known for their flexibility.

As they watched, the ghost blinked and was gone. When neither of them reacted visibly, Hannah nodded and smiled. "Absolutely." Sam supposed she was grateful to have someone around who didn't freak out that her dead husband was still in residence.

"We'll just get a few things from the car," Dean said, "and then you can point us in the right direction." He nudged Sam toward the front door. "Excuse us."

Sam waited until they were back outside then let out the breath he barely realized he'd been holding. "This is crazy. There's a dead guy living here and she's poor as a church mouse. She can't afford to keep us."

"She can afford to feed us a couple of meals a lot easier than she can afford to fix that car."

"And the dead guy?"

"He doesn't seem too bad. Just trying to look out for her. She needs some help. We can help." Dean shrugged. "Then we'll salt and burn him like any other spook."

"Fine. Fix the car for her," Sam said. "We still don't have to stay here. She can't afford that either."

Dean shook his head, looking up at him like he wasn't too bright. "You're supposed to be the sensitive one. Sam, she can't accept something for nothing."

"She'll get over it," Sam frowned. "There's a ghost in there. We should be dealing with that, not worrying about her feelings."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. "Dude, when did you turn into me?"

"When you turned into Oprah."

"Keeping the weight off's a bitch." Dean scratched a hand through his hair nervously and let his gaze drop, purposely not looking at him. "Look Sam, I spent a lot of time when we were little trying to keep you in pop tarts and macaroni. Sometimes making deals is all you can do." He looked back up and laughed like it wasn't anything, but his eyes were haunted. "Feeding a ten year old who can eat his weight in hamburgers wasn't easy. Don't even get me started on trying to keep you in shoes."

Sam swallowed past a suddenly constricted throat. Dean and deals. Always making deals to save his little brother. "Dean, you could've just said…" Sam let out another heavy sigh and this time he was the one who couldn't meet his brother's eyes. "Fine. So we stay. Then what?"

"I fix the car. You figure out how to stick it to old man Kane."

Sam shifted from one foot to the other. "Define _stick it_."

Dean grinned wickedly. "I'm sure you'll think of something. If you don't I'll just have to go old school and take a bat to his knees."

"Right." Sam grimaced. "I'll think of something."

"Thought you might."

"And once we take care of him?"

"Hopefully that will take care of Paul too."

"I doubt it," Sam replied. "Kane's not what's keeping him here. It's her."

"He might be able to go once she's safe."

"Would you leave your pregnant wife if you didn't have to?"

Dean's eyes widened and he took a step back. "You say that again, I'm gonna get hives."

"Dean."

"Fine, fine. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Let's get some rest first."

* * *

Sam woke up out of a dead sleep. He could feel the tension in the air and remained perfectly still. He and Dean were sharing the guest bedroom, but he could tell that the other side of the bed was empty. 

"Sam, get over here." Dean's words were clipped.

His brother had known the second Sam had come awake, which didn't surprise him. Dean was on permanent high alert where Sam was concerned. He rolled out of bed to find Dean standing at the window peering through the curtains.

"Something's wrong."

"What?" Sam asked. It was dark outside, but nothing looked off and he hadn't heard anything.

"Not sure yet."

"Have you seen anything?"

Dean looked at him and for the first time seemed a little sheepish. "Well, no. But…"

"But?"

"But _something_ woke me up." Dean walked toward the door and for the first time Sam saw Dean already had his jeans on and a gun in hand held down at his side. "You take a look around downstairs. I'll take outside. Try not to clomp around and scare Hannah, will ya, Gigantor?"

Sam pulled his jeans on and by the time he turned to get his own gun, Dean was gone. Tense for no other reason than that Dean was tense Sam walked out onto the upstairs landing. Quickly moving from room to room, he cleared the house and found nothing. He then moved outside, carefully avoiding the noisy step he'd noted when they'd come in the night before. Stealth was forgotten, however, when he heard Dean's shout come from the back of the house. Sam sprinted, gun at the ready. As he came around the corner, Dean was running flat out toward the field.

Sam followed, but tripped over something in the dark, toppling forward. Immediately the smell hit him. Gasoline. Their prowler had meant to burn the place down, a time-honored country tradition. You wanted a troublemaker gone or just someone you didn't like, you burnt their house down. If they had the nerve to rebuild, you burnt it down again. They'd eventually get the idea to find somewhere else to live.

Sam turned, waiting for his eyes to adjust and after several moments finally saw Dean standing at the edge of the field. Sam rose and hurried to his side. The field was covered in soybeans, a sea of black knee high plants in the oppressive darkness.

"He's still out there," Dean said lowly. "After he dropped the gas can he ran into the field and laid down."

"We'll never find him in the dark," Sam whispered.

Dean straightened and faced the field. "Just so you know," he said loudly, his voice carrying easily out into the black. "I'm heavily armed and I'm a real light sleeper."

"What now?" Sam asked, still eyeing the field warily. The leafy plants rustled in the darkness, making Sam's flesh crawl. Kane was still out there, lying perfectly still and Sam had an absurd notion to set fire to the field and see how long it took to smoke the arsonist out of his hiding spot.

"You go in and get some sleep," Dean said. "I'm gonna sit on the porch for a while. Make sure he keeps his distance."

"And then?"

"And tomorrow we'll go have a little chat with Mr. Kane."

* * *

_More tomorrow…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Reflective Triangles**

Summary: Sam and Dean try to help a woman who's lost nearly everything, but being Good Samaritans might cost them even more…

_So sorry for the delay. I managed to get the site to let me do one thing yesterday and that was it. I assure you, much annoyed yelling at the computer followed… But I digress. On we go._

Chapter Three

* * *

Hannah and Sam sat side by side in a pair of lawn chairs. Much to Dean's chagrin, they had set themselves up as spectators after he'd parked Hannah's car beneath an enormous shade tree to work.

"You guys comfy?" Dean asked, not for the first time. Hannah simply laughed while Sam grinned. He knew that Dean would only glare and order him away if he tried to help with the car.

Hannah sat back in her chair, her fingers laced over her belly. She sighed contentedly and Sam couldn't help an answering sigh of his own. Dean, too, he noticed, occasionally glanced up from his work to look in her direction. There was just something innately beautiful in the picture she made of glowing, impending motherhood.

Sam returned to watching Dean, fiddling with his brother only knew what inside the engine compartment. Sam had come downstairs that morning to find breakfast waiting for him and that Dean had already driven into town, gotten Hannah's car running well enough to get back to the house and made a stop at the auto parts store. From the looks of it, he'd probably maxed out one of their cards with everything he'd bought. Hannah was providing meals and a bed, and in exchange Dean had, it seemed, decided to completely rebuild her car. The fact that he'd left the Impala downtown to retrieve Hannah's car told Sam just how dedicated he was to making sure the woman had a running vehicle.

"It's nice having someone around the old place," Hannah said casually.

Dean looked up from his work just long enough to make eye contact with Sam. _Now's the time to dig_, he seemed to say.

"Paul… is he not always here? At night anyway?" Sam asked.

Hannah shook her head. "No, not always. He just pops in to check on me. Scares the daylights out of me to be honest."

Sam had to smile. The woman was very practical about her situation. Many people would be in a terrible state after what she'd been through.

"Poor man," she said, looking out over the fields, the plants swaying in the gentle breeze. "He just can't quite rest. I try and talk to him when he's here, but it's not really him. He's obsessed with Mr. Kane and keeping me safe from him. Paul can't really talk about anything else."

Sam nodded and he noticed that Dean did too, though he didn't look up. "Ghosts are like that sometimes," Sam offered. "They can't move on. They're just sort of stuck with the last thing they were thinking."

"Makes me miss him more," she smiled, a bit sadly. "I miss being able to talk to him. _Really_ talk to him."

"Is Paul's family around here?"

"No," she shook her head. "It was just him. His parents died several years ago."

"It must be difficult not being able to talk to your own family," Sam said carefully.

She nodded, apparently not uncomfortable with the question. "It's not the way I would like it to be, but it can't be helped. They don't understand… I don't think it's right to be cut off like that from the rest of the world."

Sam couldn't help but think of the similarities in their situations. Hannah had been enclosed, locked into a way of life so different from the average person's, but despite her family's objections she'd left anyway. Sam could still hear his own words to his father, angry and defiant. _I just want a normal life. Why is that so wrong?_ Years' worth of arguments, going on and on.

Hannah shrugged. "They think I've abandoned them. Maybe I have, in a way. I don't want to hurt them, but I can't live like that either." _You'd walk out on your family? This is a fight to the death and you're gonna just leave? We're all we've got._ His father's voice rang in Sam's ears.

"So you just left?" Sam asked. _I'm leaving. I can't do this anymore._

Hannah pursed her lips. "My father was so… disappointed. He begged me not to go. He begged me to find a way to accept a simpler way of life." _You're turning your back on your _mother_, your _brother_. She's gone, but your brother could still _die_. People will _die_ because you're not there to protect them. You're just going to walk away from that responsibility?_

"But you left anyway," Sam stated the obvious. _I'll lose my mind if I stay. I won't be any good to either of you then._

"I left as soon as I made up my mind. I knew I might give in if I waited." _If I don't go now, I'll never break free._

"Do you ever regret it?" Sam asked. _Dean, this isn't about you. It's about this life_.

"Sometimes," she said honestly. "I miss being able to talk to them. I… sometimes this life just doesn't seem real to me. It's like I'm playing at it. Does that make sense?" Sam nodded. How many times had he thought that same thing? The life they led, it was all he'd ever known. And as much as he'd longed for a _normal_ life, even when he'd had it, he'd felt oddly detached at times, like an actor on a stage. The life was normal, but _he_ wasn't. Couldn't be really, though he could pretend.

"But I had Paul." _Jess_. "It's harder now that he's gone. It would be easy to go back. Easier to go back to what I know, especially with what's going on with Mr. Kane." A sudden look of determination came over her face. "But I won't go back to that life. I can't."

Sam felt like he'd been kicked and for just a few seconds he felt nauseous. Had he caved? Had he given up his dream? Had he let it go for the sake of vengeance? Kane had killed Paul. The demon had killed Jess. Hannah had refused to fall back into the safety and protection of her family. Sam had grabbed the first gun he could find and within days been right back where he had been. He'd wanted so badly to be normal. He'd vowed never to go back to the hunt, never to chase monsters and come home covered in mud, gore and other things he didn't want to think about.

Sam looked up and felt the blood drain from his face. Dean had stopped working and was standing completely immobile, watching him. His stance was casual, but guarded, every barrier he had firmly in place. Dean knew him so well. He knew what he'd been thinking. Sam could see it in his posture, in his very lack of a response. Dean _knew_.

Dean, who'd stayed behind. Dean who'd been content to be so different from everyone around him. Dean, who'd continued in a life no one else accepted or really understood, a life that was so much harder.

"It's difficult, living a life like that," Sam said, "cut off from society." He was speaking to Hannah, but he kept his eyes on Dean. "It's not easy to keep going even though you know you're different. It takes a courage of its own." _I understand better now why you stayed. I understand now why you do what you do. I understand what_ _our_ _duty_ _is._

Hannah nodded, oblivious to the silent conversation going on around her. Yes, their situations bore some similarity, but now that Sam considered it, they were very different. Hannah had left her seclusion, feeling that she could better serve those around her to find faith. She believed a normal life was where she could and should serve others. Sam knew now that for him to help others, he had needed to go back into seclusion. He would have to live separately.

Sam kept his gaze locked with Dean's, willing him to see, willing him to understand. _It's all right. I've made my peace with this. I'm not going anywhere. I have to protect people like Hannah. I have to protect _you.

Dean remained immobile for several more seconds, then Sam saw something in him relax. It was nothing visible, just something in his bearing. Sam knew it was all he was going to get, but it was enough. Dean rolled his shoulders to loosen them, then bent back to his work under the hood. Nothing to see here, just a guy working on a car, business as usual. No train wreck, no lingering broken-hearted feelings of betrayal and abandonment. Just Dean being Dean.

The sudden thought of comparing Dean's chosen path in life to an Amish person made Sam want to laugh. Dean must have sensed something because he looked up at him again and his eyes narrowed as if to ask, _what's so funny_? Dean knew him far too well. Sam shook his head and Dean ducked back into the engine compartment.

"Sammy, come here and hold this." Dean's voice was muffled.

Sam blinked, more surprised than if Dean had just asked him to go find a good tofu recipe. "Yeah, sure." It was a peace offering if ever Sam had seen one. Dean's version of a '_we're in this together'_.

"If you two will excuse me, I believe I'll take a little nap while you're working on the car." Hannah rose with some effort from the lawn chair. "Don't worry though," she smiled. "I'll have lunch waiting for you when you're ready."

Dean stood once again and came around the car. He grabbed a rag and began wiping the grime from his hands. "Hannah, Sam and I are going to have to drive into town to get our car. We shouldn't be gone too long though," Dean said.

"Oh, don't worry about me," she replied. "It's a beautiful sunny day. No one will try anything."

Dean's frown became ferocious. "Kane tried to burn your house down."

"And now he knows I have guests. It's broad daylight. I'll be fine."

"We should take her with us," Dean said, looking at Sam.

Hannah turned and looked him full in the face. "I've been here for months on my own and I'll be here long after you're gone. I have to live my life, no matter what he does. If he burns the house down to get me to leave, then he burns the house down. It's just a house."

"Hannah…" Dean tried once more, though it was clearly a lost cause.

"Go get your car. I'll be here when you get back." From her tone, Sam could tell she was not going to hear any more on the topic. Then she smiled widely. "And just so you know, lunch is going to be a feast." She stepped up to Dean and put a hand on his arm. "Don't think I don't know how much you're putting into that junk car of mine. It was running when you drove it in this morning and as I recall that was all we bargained for."

Dean grinned, knowing he'd been caught and not minding at all. "She's still running a little rough. Have to earn our room and board."

"Room and board, my left foot." Hannah lightly smacked his arm, then backed up a step so she could look up at him properly. "I can see that you're holding out for cupcakes," she said, then shook her head. "No. You don't look like a cupcake man."

Dean looked down, rubbing a hand across his neck. "That sounds vaguely naughty, but all right." Hannah blushed prettily and that brought out the full Winchester grin. "I wouldn't say no to a pie, though. I love a nice homemade pie."

"Done," she agreed, still blushing, but clearly pleased at the attention. "I'm afraid it will have to be for your dinner though. It takes time to do these things properly."

"Oh, we'll be here," Dean assured her, still grinning. Hannah nodded and headed back toward the house, her dress moving back and forth with her swaying gait.

Dean walked back to the car. He reached in, fiddled around for a moment and then closed the hood.

"I thought you wanted me to hold something," Sam said.

Dean snorted. "I was trying to keep you from running away and joining the Amish."

"I'm not the one flirting with a pregnant Amish woman."

"Dude, she's making me a pie," Dean said defensively. "And she's ex-Amish. It's not like she's a nun."

"Dean…"

"You know," Dean said, sounding a bit annoyed. "It wouldn't kill you to give the woman something to smile about."

"It's true," Sam said.

"What's true?"

"You would flirt with a one-eyed harpy if it would get you food."

Dean straightened and his mouth quirked up at one side. "I'll let Hannah know you compared her to a one-eyed harpy. No pie for you."

"Shut up, Dean. Let's just go get the car and get back here. I don't want her left alone."

Dean immediately sobered and they hurriedly climbed into the car. "You can drive the Impala back. If this one breaks down, you'll never be able to get it started. I need to stop at the auto parts store again anyway."

"You gonna give the car a paint job while you're at it?"

"I might." Dean glared. "The rust bucket could use it."

Sam grinned. "It's cute when you try to be… domestic."

"I'm insulted. I think." Dean cocked his head to one side. "Except that means Hannah thinks I'm cute. What kind of pie do you think she'll make?"

"Drive, Dean."

Dean laughed and started the car. Immediately Sam could hear the difference between when Dean had started working on the car and the sound it was making now. She was practically purring in comparison.

* * *

"You've gotta be kidding me." Dean clenched his teeth and his hands were white-knuckled where he was holding the steering wheel.

Sam looked behind them and had to agree. Police lights. "You gonna run for it?"

Dean shook his head and pulled the car to the side of the road. "She'll never outrun a cop car. We've just got to bluff our way out of this. The IDs should hold well enough for a traffic stop."

"DRIVER, STEP OUT OF THE VEHICLE." The officer was using his loudspeaker.

"_Crap_."

Once again, Sam had to agree. It meant this was more than just a traffic stop. The officer wasn't approaching the car. No _License and registration please_. They'd gone straight for the _Get out because we're pretty sure you're bad guys_.

Moving his upper body as little as possible, Dean took the gun he had tucked at his back and shoved it under the seat as he got out of the car. Following the policeman's commands, he turned his back to the cop and backed toward him, then knelt on the ground, his hands on his head.

"PASSENGER, STEP OUT OF THE VEHICLE."

Sam's turn. Another police car arrived and parked behind the first. As Sam held his arms out wide and knelt, Dean was already being cuffed.

"I'm being punished," Dean muttered.

"Quiet," the officer ordered.

"I'm being punished for flirting with a nun."

* * *

_I'll be more circumspect this time and say - site willing, more tomorrow…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Reflective Triangles**

Summary: Sam and Dean try to help a woman who's lost nearly everything, but being Good Samaritans might cost them even more…

_I sincerely apologize for not replying to your reviews tonight. Thank you for every single one and I'll reply as soon as possible. Overtime cut into my computer time._

Chapter Four

* * *

Dean stood, hands cuffed behind his back, and waited while the officer patted him down. Sam, standing a few feet away, was having to endure the same.

"Easy there, Roscoe. We're not the Duke brothers. You wanna tell us what the problem is?"

"We received a report of two men stealing a car from Hannah Mueller's residence," the cop behind Dean said. "And that is Mrs. Mueller's car."

Dean fought not to swear. "Don't tell me. Martin Kane called it in."

Dean could tell by the way the policeman halted his movement for just a second that he'd been right.

"Look, we didn't steal the car," Dean said. "We're working on it for her. It broke down last night. We've spent all morning trying to get the piece of crap running."

"We were on our way into town to the auto parts store," Sam added for good measure. "Call Hannah. She'll tell you."

"Dude, she's taking a nap," Dean said, shooting his brother a disapproving look.

"I'd rather wake her up than go to jail, Dean," Sam snapped.

"Why don't both of you shut up," the officer said irritably. He pushed Dean toward his squad car and leaned him against it. "Just stand there and shut it."

Sam and Dean stood quietly while one officer stayed with them and the other walked up to Hannah's car and looked in. Dean held his breath, waiting to see if the man would search under the seats. If he found the gun, then their gooses were cooked and he was never gonna get to see that pie. The man stopped though, only giving the interior a cursory look before heading back toward them.

"I've got Hannah's number in my cell phone," Dean offered. "Just give her a call and she can clear this all up."

"Martin Kane called you to report us?" Sam asked.

The officer didn't respond, watching them both carefully. His partner came up to stand beside him. They were both par for the course. One was blond, the other was dark-headed, both with the standard cop buzz cut. One was a little shorter than average, the other a little taller than the norm. The blond was Sam's age. The dark headed one looked to be in his forties.

"Well, did he?" Sam asked.

The older cop eyed him. His name tag said 'Timmons'. "Is that important?"

"Other than he tried to burn the house down last night, not really," Dean said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"He tried to burn the house down last night. He dropped the gas can and I chased him into the field. If we hadn't been there, Hannah would be out of a house right now. Or worse."

"You actually saw him?" Timmons asked. "You could identify him?"

That brought Dean up short. The cop looked almost… eager. "No," Dean answered.

The older officer didn't move a muscle, but the younger one shook his head and swore.

"You sure? You chased him. Maybe a clothing description?" Timmons asked.

Sam and Dean shared a look. _Interesting_.

"You… know about Kane?"

"Do I look stupid, kid?"

Dean blinked and couldn't help a grin from forming. "Ya know, you really shouldn't give people an opening like that."

The policeman had the good grace to look embarrassed. "We got our suspicions. We just can't prove anything. Can't prove anything, can't do anything."

Thankfully, Dean thought, he and Sam weren't working under the same restrictions. That and they _did_ have an eyewitness. He happened to be dead, but he was an eyewitness nevertheless.

"Look, we ruined Kane's little plan last night and he's warning us to stay out of the way," Dean said. "Just call Hannah. She'll tell you."

The officer hesitated, looking them up and down. Dean carefully blanked his expression and put on his very best 'I'm harmless and trustworthy' face. Sam didn't have to do anything. He'd been born looking trustworthy. Amazing really since he was a scruffy looking sasquatch who could break a person in half. The cop looked at Sam, relaxing slightly, then his eyes shifted back to Dean. Back on alert. Crap. Dean never had been good at looking harmless.

"Dude," he said in frustration. "I'm not gonna steal a junker like Hannah's. If I'm gonna get picked up by the cops, I'm gonna steal a freakin' Ferrari."

The officer motioned for Dean to turn around. "I'm going to uncuff you. You try anything and this won't end well, understand?"

"I'm a sucker for a happy ending," Dean answered. The officer released him and he rubbed his wrists, more out of habit than anything else. He didn't like being restrained, physically or otherwise. He turned back toward the officer and carefully reached into his pocket for the phone, grateful he'd thought to get the number from Hannah that morning in case there was some sort of problem getting the car from the diner. He scrolled to the appropriate number, pushed the button to dial and then handed it to the older officer who was clearly in charge of this operation.

The man stood, waiting through several rings. "Hello, Mrs. Mueller? This is Deputy Timmons with the Sheriff's Department. I'm calling because we received a report of two suspicious looking men taking your car from your home." He paused, listening for several seconds. "Sam?" Dean pointed helpfully toward his brother. "And Dean?" Dean pointed a thumb at his own chest. The officer was silent for several more seconds listening. "They're just fixing up the car for you?" Hannah clearly answered in the affirmative because the officer visibly relaxed his stance. He gestured to his partner to remove Sam's cuffs. "Ok, hold on just a second." He held out the phone for Dean to take. "She wants to talk to you."

Dean took the phone and held it to his ear. "Hi, Hannah. Sorry we messed up your nap."

"_That's all right. Nothing to worry about_."

Dean went still and his heart thumped painfully in his chest. The words were fine, but… Sam saw the change and looked at him. Dean held up a finger to ask him to wait. "Is everything all right there, Hannah?" Dean asked.

"_Just fine. I'm making those cupcakes for you_."

The voice was cheery, but Dean could hear the tension practically vibrating down the line. "You're making cupcakes, huh? My favorite."

Sam's eyes widened. By this time both of the officers were back on high alert and looking warily between the brothers.

"Hannah, if there's something wrong I want you to say 'sure thing'."

"_Sure thing_."

He could hear the relief that he'd understood. Oh, this was so not good. "Hannah, is Kane there with you?"

"_Yup_."

"He's standing right there?"

"_Yes, I've got chocolate icing for you." _She laughed, though the strain was evident to Dean now that he knew what was going on. "_I've got all sorts of things here in the kitchen." _

Dean put his hand over the phone and looked at the two officers. "We need to get to Hannah's. Something's wrong. Kane's there. Hannah's scared and she's having to be cryptic." Dean vaguely registered Hannah continuing to make yes and no noises, then making suggestions about where he might go to get something for the car, pretending he was trying to find some part or another. Smart woman, Dean thought. Just keep talking. He's less likely to do anything with you on the phone.

The officers moved quickly. The older cop pointed at Dean. "You get in the car with me and keep her talking." Sam ran for Hannah's old bomber while the other cop ran for his car.

They were only a few minutes away from the house. Kane had just been waiting for them to leave. Dean wanted to yell. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to beat the crap out of Kane. But he couldn't do a freaking thing until he got back to the house and he had to stay calm.

"We're on our way back," Dean said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. "We're just a couple of minutes out."

"_Oh, that's nice."_

"You said you're both in the kitchen?"

"_Uh huh."_

"There's no way you can get away from him? Lock yourself in a room until we get there?"

"_No, I don't think so."_

"Does he have any weapons?"

"_Sure does."_

Dean's grip on the phone tightened and he immediately ordered himself to stop. He couldn't break the phone before he had a chance to shove it up Kane's nose.

"_Well, I should get going."_

Kane was getting restless. He wanted her off the phone. Now what? "Hannah, stay with me."

"_You don't say!"_

Hannah had missed her calling. She should have gone to Hollywood. She was pretending to be pulled back into a nonexistent conversation. "Hannah, does he have a gun?"

"_Oh, no."_

"A knife?"

"_No, not really."_

Crap, what else was there? "A bat?"

"_Something like that."_

"Ok, Hannah. We're almost there," Dean said, desperate to encourage her and feeling more helpless than ever. She was a freaking pregnant woman. Who terrorized a pregnant woman? It was against every instinct known to man. "Do you think he's going to lose it when we drive in?"

"_I hope not."_

"Me too, but I need to know how he's acting. Calm or is he acting crazy?"

"_Cool as a cucumber. The baby kicks every once in a while, but that's normal. He's going to be a sweetie. I just know it."_

Ok, Kane wasn't nutso quite yet. He was getting a little agitated from time to time. They might get out of this one fairly easily. Dean put his hand over the receiver. "He's got something like a bat, though not exactly that. Kane's twitchy, but he's not wacko yet. We play this cool, it should be fine, I think. Hannah's still playing it like this is just a social visit."

The officer nodded and put a hand to his radio. "14, hold back a minute," the officer said, speaking to the cop following them. "Standby on the road until we know what's up. I don't want him getting spooked and doing anything stupid."

Dean removed his hand and spoke into the phone again. "Ok, Hannah, we're just pulling in."

"_Oh, look! They're back already!"_ Dean heard her walking out of the kitchen toward the front room. "_And Deputy Timmons is with them. I haven't talked to him in ages_."

The officer pulled the squad car up though not directly in front of the house. Dean practically jumped from the car and saw Hannah walking out the screen door onto the porch. Dean began walking toward her, still connected to her via the phone. He motioned for her to keep walking. "Come on down the steps," he urged. "Don't give him a chance to stop you, ok? You're just coming out to see some friends. There's nothing wrong."

He was eating up the distance between them and he didn't care if it did look like he was in too big a hurry. Kane was not going to get a chance to stop her. Dean saw him step out onto the porch as well with what looked like a wrench in hand. Nondescript, easily explained, and good for bashing in a woman's head.

Dean barely glanced to the side and saw that Sam had parked the car behind the cop car and he too was hurriedly though calmly walking toward the porch and Hannah. He gave a big wave and smiled at her like he was just coming in for a visit.

They were close enough now, so Dean let the phone drop and quickly tucked it into a pocket. "Hey, Hannah." He closed the distance between them. He grabbed her by the shoulders like he was greeting a long lost friend and swung her around so that he was between her and Kane. She was shaking slightly and she looked wide-eyed.

Sam continued past them, heading straight for Kane as did the officer. Timmons waved for Sam to stay back, but Sam didn't appear to be in any mood to cooperate. He looked loaded for bear and Dean couldn't blame him. They were all pretty much in their caveman Me-Guy-Must-Protect-Pregnant-Woman mode. It was a DNA thing. It just happened. Only the fact that Hannah was now shaking so badly that she looked ready to fall down kept Dean from following Sam up onto the porch.

Dean put a supportive arm around Hannah and urged her away from Kane toward her car. "It's ok," he said trying to soothe her, though he could hear the anger in his voice. "It's ok." Dean opened the passenger side door and let Hannah sit down, her legs still out of the car. He crouched down in front of her, distantly annoyed when one of his knees popped. He was going to be an arthritic 35 year old thanks to this job. He took the phone she was still gripping desperately and set it aside.

"You all right?" he asked.

Hannah nodded. "I'm fine. He just…" She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "He just scared me. I turned around and he was there in the kitchen. There's something different about him, something… crazy. He seemed nice and all and then he told me he wanted me to sell him the land. I told him the same thing I always do."

"Screw him and the horse he rode in on?"

Hannah gave a choked laugh and blushed furiously, shocked at the colorful phrase as Dean had intended. Granted, it was pretty easy to shock an ex-Amish chick.

"Not exactly, but something like that," she answered, a ghost of a smile appearing.

Dean had placed himself so that he could watch the proceedings on the porch. The deputy had taken the wrench from Kane and it looked like he wasn't too happy with the answers he was getting. Sam was alternating between looking worried and looking ready to hit something. He turned slightly and their eyes met. The look told Dean what he'd already suspected. Kane hadn't actually done anything criminal and the police weren't going to be able to do anything about it until he did.

Hannah started to turn toward the porch, but Dean stopped her with another question. "What happened after you said no?"

"He… he had this expression on his face. He still seemed calm, but…" She looked at him and frowned. "Have you ever had someone look at you and nothing actually seemed wrong, but you can tell that they'd just as soon kill you as look at you?"

Dean nodded. He was well acquainted with that feeling. Trusting it had saved his life more times than he could count.

She started shaking again and Dean self-consciously took both of her hands in his. His personal space issues could wait. He didn't need the woman going into labor because Sam was unavailable for the touchy-feely part of the job. "We're gonna figure this out. Ok?"

Dean watched as Kane was escorted down off the porch toward the deputy's car. The cop sat him inside then shut the door. Kane turned his head in Dean's direction and Dean saw what Hannah had meant. He looked fine, calm, peaceful even, but there was something really unpleasant going on behind those eyes. Dean stood and for the barest of seconds returned that gaze, just to let the guy know he wasn't the only predator here.

"Stop giving Kane the eye, kid," Deputy Timmons said. "Your brother's already done it plenty."

"Sam?" Dean shook his head. "He couldn't give a kindergartner the eye."

Sam joined them and glared at Dean to show him just how capable he was.

"See?" Dean pointed. "Would you be afraid of that?"

The deputy ignored them both. "You all right, Hannah?"

"Just fine," she said. "Thank you, Gene." Dean had to choke down a laugh. The poor guy's name was Gene Timmons. So close to greatness, yet so far.

"Did Mr. Kane threaten you?"

"No," she answered. "I turned around and he was just there in the kitchen. I… I was afraid he was going to… I don't know what he was going to do."

"It's ok," Sam said. He nudged Dean out of the way and sank down beside Hannah. "You did the right thing. You didn't like the situation and you got help." He easily took her hand and she latched onto him like a lifeline. Dean felt a twinge of jealousy at Sam's ease with strangers, but let it go. They each had their strengths. It was why they made such a good team. "Deputy Timmons is going to take him home. Kane's been warned not to come back on the property or he'll be arrested for trespassing." Sam briefly looked at Dean, telling him just how little good he thought the warning was going to do.

"I understand you boys are staying with her for a few days?" Timmons asked, clearly curious, but not asking.

"We're friends of Paul's," Dean answered.

"Ok. You two keep a sharp eye out." He was still looking at them doubtfully, but as long as they were useful Timmons apparently wasn't going to push the issue. "We'll be keeping an eye on the place too. Don't get any smart ideas. You call if anything happens. Understand?"

Sam and Dean both nodded. Hannah said, "Of course."

"I'll remind him again not to come back here."

Sam and Dean stood watching as the deputy got back into his car and turned to go back down the drive. Kane paid them no attention. His eyes were on Hannah. As the car swept past, Dean watched him watching her and knew what those eyes told him.

Tonight. Whatever Kane was going to do, it would be tonight.

* * *

_I'll do my best to get something posted tomorrow, but it being a holiday it may or may not happen._


	5. Chapter 5

**Reflective Triangles**

Summary: Sam and Dean try to help a woman who's lost nearly everything, but being Good Samaritans might cost them even more…

_Sorry…_

Chapter Five

* * *

Dean walked back into the living room. Night had fallen and with it the tension level in the house had risen exponentially. They all knew Kane would try something tonight. They just didn't know what.

Dean sat down in the chair across from Hannah. She was sitting on the sofa with her feet up, one hand absentmindedly rubbing her rounded belly. Sam was sitting in the other chair holding a paperback, though Dean doubted he'd actually read more than a page or two. His eyes kept moving over the words, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Dean fought the urge to fidget. Sitting and waiting just wasn't his strong point. He eyed the duffel bag on the floor between him and Sam. They'd brought a small arsenal in from the car after their quick trip into town to get it, Hannah along for the ride this time.

Sam momentarily looked up from his book and frowned at him. Dean raised his eyebrows in question then guiltily realized he was drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Dean cleared his throat. "Hannah, when does Paul usually… when do you usually see him?" Paul's sole concern was for Hannah's safety and they could put that to good use. Another set of eyes and ears. Not to mention that it would scare the crap out of Kane if he saw a man he'd killed six months ago.

"I never know," Hannah answered. "Paul is here for hours sometimes, other times only a few minutes."

"Have you ever seen any of the others?" Sam asked, giving up the pretense of reading and setting his book aside. "From the wreck?"

"Oh, no," she said with certainty.

"Not the ghost type?" Dean inquired.

"My family… my father especially, they would have accepted it."

"The accident?" Sam asked.

"Dying." She gave the barest of smiles, tinged with sadness. "Faith is a beautiful thing. When you are so certain there is more, something infinitely better waiting for you, then dying-"

"Is still dead," Dean said before he could stop himself.

Hannah looked at him and he could barely stand the pity he saw on her face. He didn't dare look at Sam.

Hannah turned, setting her feet on the floor so that she could look at him directly. "Then dying is all right," she said kindly. "It's not… good or… pleasant. It's painful and awful… but it's all right."

So many thoughts ran through Dean's head, each screaming to be heard that he had the ludicrous notion to cover his ears. Dying was... It was dying. It was _gone_. And as much as he would secretly hope that there was something better to go to, it was _not here_. When he'd been electrocuted, Marshall Hall had died to give Dean more time. After the accident, their dad had died to give Dean more time. They were gone. They'd died to give Dean more time to save Sam and then Sam had _died_. After all that had been lost… Dean alive and Sam dead. How was that supposed to be all right? He was just supposed to _trust_ that Sam had gone to a better place?

Sam made a noise, so soft Dean barely heard it. Their eyes met and Dean fought not to flinch. So many emotions flashed across his brother's expressive face Dean could barely process it all. Sorrow, despair, anger, disappointment, worry, stark raving fear, sheer bravery, determination. It was everything that made Sam… Sam. And to have Sam with him giving him that look was the whole point of what Dean had done at the crossroads.

Yeah. Dying was still dead and Dean knew he would do it all again. Sam had faith and Dean had Sam. _That_ was all right. He believed in Sam. Sam kept him alive and safe and sane. Dean _needed_ him alive. Whatever he'd had to do to make that happen was worth it. The world was a better place with his brother in it.

Sam was glaring at him. Dean just gave him a lopsided smile. Sorry, Sammy. Just the way the cookie crumbled.

Sam's expression hardened and Dean plainly saw what was written there. _Watch me_, those eyes said. _Watch me fight to the death to save you_.

Maybe the demon hadn't lied and Sam wasn't 100 percent Sam. Dean would almost swear the kid had picked up a few Charles Bronson genes while he'd been down for the count.

They all looked up as Paul entered the room, his form moving silently across the floor. It was frankly creepy to watch. Dean's first instinct was to reach for Marigold, sitting in the bag beside him. After all, a ghost was a ghost and it wasn't supposed to be here. Dean left the sawed-off shotgun where she was though. Paul wanted to protect Hannah as much as they did and they might need him shortly. Still, Dean's fingers itched for the security Marigold offered. He just wasn't comfortable with having a ghost this close and doing nothing about it.

Paul moved toward Hannah carrying a steaming cup of tea. She sat up and accepted it gratefully. "Just what I needed," she smiled up at him. "Thank you." She clasped the cup in both hands and sipped from it. "Nothing like hot tea to soothe your jangled nerves."

"Don't worry, honey," Paul said. "I won't let Kane hurt you. He won't get the chance."

"I know you won't." She sighed contentedly as he sat down beside her and put his arm around her, drawing her close.

"Is your tea all right?" he asked anxiously. "Sometimes…" A frown crossed his face. "I can't remember…"

"It's wonderful," Hannah assured him and took another sip. "Perfect."

"I just want to keep you safe, to take care of you. You know that, right?"

Dean clenched his teeth. Ghosts. Single-minded didn't even begin to cover it.

They all sat quietly while Hannah sipped her tea. Dean kept the better part of his attention on his surroundings, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Sam was doing the same, although Dean occasionally caught him glancing his way. It was only to be expected after what Hannah had said. The deal. It was the elephant in the room and there was nothing he could do about it until… well, until there was nothing more to be done about it. Maybe they could fix it and maybe they couldn't. Either way, Sam was sitting beside him now. Sam was _here_.

Sam and Dean jerked to attention. Noise on the back porch.

"Paul, stay with Hannah," Dean ordered. He motioned for Sam to head toward the back of the house while he quietly slipped out the front door. He worked his way to the back, carefully peeking around the corner. He pulled the gun from his waistband and held it down at his side as he moved.

Kane was in the shadows, barely visible as he crept along the back of the house. Not exactly creative, but he was carrying a gas can again. Dean began to raise his gun and braced himself to turn the corner.

"Police! Stop right there!"

Dean froze, melting back into the shadows. The combined light of several flashlights illuminated the back of the house. Kane stood transfixed, blinded by the light, though Dean could see several police officers standing in the yard, their guns drawn.

"Down on the ground, Kane! Now!"

Kane looked both ways, dropped the gas can and then bolted off the porch. Dean heard the officers swear and then saw the flashlights bobbing as they gave chase. He didn't make it far. He barely got ten feet before one of the cops tackled him. In seconds it was over and Kane was in handcuffs being marched back toward the house.

Sam stepped out onto the porch and flipped on the outside light. Dean hurriedly put his gun away, hiding it beneath his shirt, and joined him.

"Everyone all right?" one of the cops asked. It sounded like Timmons again.

"We're fine," Sam called. "Hannah's inside."

Timmons stepped up onto the porch as the other two officers walked Kane toward the front of the house. "We've been taking turns watching him. We knew something was up when he left his house and headed this way." The officer shook his head in disbelief. "I think Kane's just lost it. He's been getting worse and worse and he's finally just lost it. He walked right up to the house, bold as you please."

"What now?" Dean asked.

"We'll take him in and charge him. To be honest though, he's going to be able to bail out before long."

"How long?"

"We'll be able to keep him for a few hours at least." Timmons scratched at his head nervously. "He's got plenty of money. He'll have the cash set up for his bail before we can even get the paperwork going."

"So he could be back here by morning?" Sam asked incredulously.

Timmons nodded. "He'll have to sign some paperwork saying he'll stay away from Hannah before we release him, but somehow I don't think that's going to stop him. He's just not thinking straight."

"Well, we're not going anywhere," Dean stated plainly.

"Dean, we can't stay here forever," Sam said, his brow creased with worry.

Timmons' radio squawked. Dean didn't catch the words, but Timmons nodded. "I need to go. The jail will call here when Kane's about to be released so you'll have a heads up. One of us will try to stay in the area too."

"Great," Dean said and received a glare from the officer.

"We're doing what we can. You two just keep your eyes open," Timmons ordered. "Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded.

Timmons left them and Sam and Dean walked back into the house. Hannah and Paul were still sitting together on the sofa. The ghost's arms were around his wife and she was leaning into him, accepting the protective embrace.

"Kane's going to the big house," Dean informed them and Hannah relaxed visibly. "At least for a few hours."

"I can't say that I'm sorry," she replied.

"You should get some rest," Dean suggested.

Hannah smiled. "I will. But you two are the ones doing all the work. You should try to sleep while you can." She nestled closer into Paul's arms. "I think I'll stay here for a little while."

Sam and Dean nodded, though Dean couldn't help another uneasy glance in Paul's direction. They were going to have to deal with him as soon as Kane was taken care of.

"You let us know as soon as they call."

"Who?"

"Someone will call when Kane's about to be released from the jail."

"Don't worry, honey," Paul said, hugging her closer. "You're safe with me. Kane won't come near you ever again."

"Nice in theory," Dean said sharply. "They call while we're asleep, you wake us up. Got it?"

Paul ignored him, but Hannah nodded. "Go sleep. I'll be fine right here."

Dean hesitated and Sam tugged on his sleeve. "Give them some time alone, Dean," he said quietly. It might be the last Hannah would get if they took care of Paul. Dean sighed and turned to follow Sam toward the stairs.

"Thank you," Hannah said. "Both of you."

* * *

Dean woke and turned over, still groggy. He momentarily thought his ears were ringing. As his mind cleared, he realized it was a phone. They must be calling to tell them about Kane. The ringing was very, very distant and he realized the only phone was downstairs. After another ring it stopped and Dean assumed Hannah had picked up.

Dean reached over and elbowed Sam. "Rise and shine, Junior. We're on."

They had both slept in their clothes. Sam rolled out of the bed and together they hurried down the stairs. As they reached the bottom, the phone started ringing again.

Following the sound into the kitchen, Dean finally picked up. "Hello?"

"This is Jail Officer Chambers with the Sheriff's Department."

"Yes?"

"I'm calling to notify you that Martin Kane was released approximately 45 minutes ago."

"45 minutes?" Dean said angrily. "You were supposed to call _before_ he was released." He turned around and looked at Sam. "Find Hannah. Kane could already be here." Sam nodded and hurried out of the room.

"We did call, sir," the voice on the other end of the line said, a hint of annoyance creeping in.

"I beg your pardon?"

"We've been trying off and on for the past hour, sir."

"Dean?" Sam called from the living room. His voice was higher than normal, a hint of panic. Dean dropped the phone in its cradle and strode into the living room.

Sam was kneeling beside the sofa where Hannah was lying on her side. Paul was standing behind them looking down at his wife.

Dean's eyes scanned the room and saw no immediate threats. "Sam, what is it?"

Sam turned and sat back on the floor heavily. Dean instantly saw why. They'd seen enough bodies in their lives that it was unmistakable. They knew dead when they saw it.

"She's safe now," her husband said. "Kane can't hurt her anymore."

"Paul, what have you done?" Dean asked, horrified.

"I saved her," the ghost answered.

The tea. The freaking tea. The empty cup was still sitting on the coffee table. He'd killed her.

Dean felt the blood drain from his face. "But the baby," he whispered, barely able to force the words out.

"It's all right. I made sure the baby's safe, too," Paul said.

Sam's eyes met Dean's. "It's too late. Dean, she's cold."

* * *

_More tomorrow…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Reflective Triangles**

Summary: Sam and Dean try to help a woman who's lost nearly everything, but being Good Samaritans might cost them even more…

_And now you know the reason I apologized at the top of last chapter. Surprised a bit? Well… There's no need to draw this out. This is_ Supernatural _after all, not_ General Hospital. _It's been a pleasure._

Chapter Six

* * *

Two steps and Dean was opening the duffel bag full of weapons and supplies. 

"I have to go now," he heard Paul say. "Hannah and the baby, they need me."

Dean turned, Marigold in hand, and leveled her at the ghost. He pulled the trigger, but Paul was already gone and the salt dispersed in a useless cloud.

He let the gun fall to his side. He'd thought Kane was the dangerous one. He'd been certain. He'd left Hannah in the care of her loving husband.

Sam was looking at him, pleading with him with those eyes of his to somehow fix this. But how was Dean supposed to fix it. He'd helped kill her through pure negligent stupidity.

"Sam." He had to clear his throat. "Sam, go get our bags from upstairs."

"Dean?" his brother asked uncertainly.

"Please," he said, not even caring that he was perilously close to begging, "Just go get the bags."

Sam stood, and, as if afraid he might hurt her, carefully brushed a hand over Hannah's hair, smoothing it back from her face. He then left silently, his face ashen, unable to look at Dean as he passed him.

Once he was gone, Dean couldn't stop his traitorous feet as they took him closer to Hannah. What was it the waitress had said? If the poor girl didn't have bad luck, she'd have no luck at all. Hannah was lying on her side, looking comfortably relaxed. She'd simply fallen asleep and now would never wake up. Dean hoped with everything he had that there was something waiting for her and her child, because all that was left behind was the obscenely empty husk. He stayed where he was, the image burning itself into his brain. He allowed it, refused to turn away from the glaring, abject failure. He could never let himself forget why he hunted things like Paul.

Dean heard Sam coming back down the stairs, but still remained where he was. He felt numb and was grateful for it, knowing that the crushing feeling around his heart was only going to get worse.

"We need to get out of the house," Sam said.

"Right," Dean answered distantly, his eyes still on Hannah.

"Now, Dean," Sam said. Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and finally looked up. "Kane's here."

"Right," Dean said again. He mechanically picked up the bag of weapons and he and Sam walked out the front door and down the steps. The Impala was parked away from the house. They walked out into the darkness and threw the bags in the back. Dean moved to the driver's side, but couldn't make his fingers open the door. Instead he sank down, landing heavily on the ground his back against the car. He felt Sam sit on the ground beside him and together they watched as Kane circled the house, gas can in hand, walking across the wooden porch, liberally splashing the planks. Finally, he struck a match. In mere minutes the old farmhouse was in flames. It took ten or fifteen minutes after that for the fire trucks to arrive.

Kane, who had remained standing in front of the house, gas can in hand, mesmerized by his handiwork, was led away in handcuffs. Dean supposed they couldn't prove he'd purposely killed Hannah's family in the accident, but this was a slam-dunk and once they recovered Hannah's remains he'd be blamed for that too.

So Dean guessed they'd found a way to stick it to Kane after all. Wasn't he proud.

* * *

The sheer noise of a fire never ceased to amaze Sam. It was an actual roar, drowning out the other sounds around them. The light cast a glow over everything, the fire trucks, the police cars, the emergency workers, the fields, the trees. But for some reason the most appalling thing was Hannah's beat up old car. After all the effort Dean had put into it to make sure Hannah would have a reliable way to get where she needed to go, to take her child with her without having to worry about whether the car would make it or not, the car had been pushed to one side, abandoned. 

Sam anxiously looked at Dean as his brother blindly watched the burning house. One of the emergency workers had draped a blanket over him and Dean had barely seemed to notice. The blanket had fallen to his lap and Sam briefly considered pulling it back up, but discarded the idea. Dean wouldn't appreciate anyone fussing over him. Not right now.

Guilt. Failure. Shame.

Sam could practically see the weight of it bearing down on Dean's shoulders. Felt it himself. They'd screwed up. Screwed up royally. And Hannah had died because of it. The baby had died. They'd known that Paul wanted to protect his wife and child. They just hadn't known how far the ghost was willing to go to ensure it. The ghost had defined safe as dead with him.

Deputy Timmons suddenly appeared in front of them. He squatted down and his exhausted eyes traveled from one of them to the other.

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

"Kane set the house on fire." Sam's voice cracked and he was surprised to feel tears running down his face. He hadn't realized they were there and he couldn't seem to find the energy to brush them away. "We got out. Hannah didn't."

Timmons sighed and nodded. "We're gonna need you to come in and talk to us."

Sam nodded in response. They'd be gone, disappear like they always did, but the cop didn't need to know that. They'd caught Kane red-handed. They didn't really need them.

Timmons nodded toward Dean. "He ok?"

Sam frowned. "He's-"

"He's had a really crappy day and doesn't feel like talking," Dean said roughly. He still wasn't looking at them, his eyes on the house that the firemen were still uselessly pouring water onto.

"Dean?" Sam had thought him nearly catatonic, but he should have known better. Dean wouldn't allow himself the luxury of shutting down.

"Yeah, Sammy." His voice was a ragged whisper. In one swift movement he stood, the blanket falling to the ground, forgotten. Sam and the deputy followed suit. Dean opened the car door and got in, already fishing in his pocket for the keys. Sam had the uncomfortable feeling that if he didn't get in the car fast Dean was going to leave without him.

Timmons grabbed Sam's elbow. "Watch him," he said simply. Sam only nodded. "This wasn't your fault. Either of you," he said more loudly for Dean's sake. Sam saw Dean's jaw tick and knew he'd heard. "Not much you can do when someone's that determined to hurt you."

Dean's eyes met Sam's, bleak and stricken. Certainly nothing they could do about it now.

"I guess it's like Paul always said," Timmons said thoughtfully.

"How's that?"

"The meek shall inherit the earth." The deputy turned slightly, looking out over the fields in the now early morning light.

Understanding dawned on Sam. "Paul didn't have any family left. This will all go to Hannah's relatives."

"Shame about the house," the policeman said, "but her family, they're good builders. The whole community will come in. They'll put up a nice sturdy home to replace this one. Only take a few days."

"Sam," Dean said loudly, clearly impatient.

"Yeah," Sam said. He held out his hand to Timmons who shook it.

"We'll need to talk to you shortly," the officer reminded him again.

"I know." Sam turned to look at Dean who had gone back to his unseeing staring at the fire. "I… I need to see to him first." This had come at exactly the wrong time. After their father's death Dean had been so… off. Dangerously off. But it had passed. Dean had found some sort of equilibrium again. And then came the djinn to screw it all up again. No harem pants, no funny hats, just tattoos and the power to break a man's heart, rip it right out of his chest and crush it while he looked on. For Dean to come back, it must have been like choosing between heaven and hell. And then Sam had died in Dean's arms. Those vague memories, those few seconds after the pain had passed, he knew them for what they were now. His death. Dean's frightened voice. The knowledge that it was over… And then Dean had chosen Hell again.

"Sam, get in the freaking car!" Dean yelled.

Apparently Dean had moved from denial to anger. What was the next step? Bargaining. The Winchesters certainly knew how that turned out. Yeah, bargaining had done wonders for them.

"Sam, if you don't get your ass in the car, I swear…"

Sam nodded to Timmons one last time and hurried into the passenger seat. Dean already had the car in gear and moving before the door was even shut. Weaving through the emergency vehicles, he roared down the gravel drive ignoring the car's paint job. Pulling out onto the road, he floored it, not bothering to hide that he needed to put as much distance as he could between them and the house, and Hannah.

They drove and drove and the silence was deafening. Sam had no idea where they were going. He doubted Dean did either. It was just _away_.

Dean didn't turn on any music and for once Sam wished he would, just to drown out the accusing voices in his head. Of all people they should have been able to help Hannah. Instead, they'd practically handed her over tied up with ribbon.

"We should have known." Dean's voice cut through the silence, low and rough.

"There was no way we could have known he would do that," Sam countered.

"We should have taken care of Paul first," Dean said angrily.

"He wasn't the greater danger," Sam answered just as angrily. The anger wasn't helpful, but it was unavoidable.

"Hannah's dead body says differently."

"We didn't know!"

"We should have!" Dean shouted. "This is our job! We're supposed to know what we're doing. It's pretty simple. Ghosts bad. That the rule!"

"He was her husband. He… he shouldn't have hurt her," Sam said.

Dean's anger deflated just as quickly as it had arisen. "That's the problem. We were thinking of him like a person," he sighed. "Ghosts aren't people. They don't think like people."

Sam matched his sigh. "Yeah." What else was there to say really? The road stretched on and they fell silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. Hannah was gone and there was nothing they could do about it. They'd known her for all of a day, just one day, and now she was gone.

"Do you…" Dean cleared his throat nervously. "Do you think…"

"What?"

Dean glanced over at him, an odd expression on his face, almost wary. "You think Hannah's… ok?"

Sam was very careful not to react before he considered what he was going to say. That Dean was even asking was… unusual. As his brother liked to say, that question was above their pay grade.

"You heard her yourself, Dean. It's not good. It's painful, but for a person with faith, it's all right."

Dean looked out the window so that Sam couldn't see his face, but he saw Dean's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "She's still… gone."

"We can hope she's at peace," Sam said.

"What about Paul?" Dean turned back slightly so that Sam could just see his profile. Sam could still tell how carefully he was guarding his expression. "Do you think… Do you think it cost him? When it comes down do it, he killed his wife and kid."

"Not…" Sam swallowed heavily, "Not my place to answer that. It was him, but it wasn't really him and he was trying to save her."

"If he saved her… but he couldn't be with her… if he had to be alone…" Dean trailed off, unable to continue.

"That would be unbearable," Sam said, but he wasn't talking about Hannah anymore and he let it show in his voice. "Dean…"

"Don't, Sammy," he said, his voice hushed, pain-filled.

"It's not gonna be a year from now. I _will_ fix that."

"I hope so," Dean said simply. Just hearing Sam say it seemed to help him though and Sam saw him pry his fingers from the white-knuckled grip he'd had on the wheel.

Sam cleared his suddenly tight throat. "But when we do die… and let's face it, one of these days, something bigger and meaner is gonna take us out-"

"You mean again?" Dean said, a touch of amusement in his tone.

"When that happens, we're still gonna be together. I _believe_ that." Sam put all the conviction he could muster into his tone.

Dean finally turned to look at Sam and his eyes were smiling. "You do, huh?"

"Yeah. So don't screw it up."

"You mean again?" Dean repeated, this time the amusement unmistakable.

Sam glared at him. "Yeah, again."

"Do you think He'll let me keep the car?" Dean asked.

Sam grinned inwardly, but didn't let it show. "Maybe He'll give you a better one."

Dean blinked, his eyes wide, then gently patted the steering wheel. "Don't listen to him, baby. Sam doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Dean, I'm trying to comfort your sorry ass. Stop worrying about the car!" Sam said in exasperation.

"All cars go to heaven," Dean said. "Well, maybe not Yugos, or Pintos. They were fireballs of death anyway. Or Probes!" Dean gave a mock shudder. "Who buys a car called a Probe? Sounds like something from a proctologist's office. Worse yet a _used_ Probe. That's wrong on so many levels. I mean-"

"Dean!" Sam half-yelled to stop the flow of words.

"What?"

"It's gonna be a better place, car or not."

Dean was silent for several moments then finally let out a slow breath. "It's a nice thought."

"What is?"

"That when we… go… we'll still be together."

"Yeah, it is," Sam said. He gave Dean a sidelong glace. "It'll make what the djinn did for you look like crap in comparison."

Dean nodded and Sam wished like anything he knew what his brother was thinking. Dean was so concretely grounded in the here and now. For all the craziness and the unbelievable things they'd seen, Dean's ability to accept that there was good out there as well as evil was stunted, cut off at the knees. That was partially why Dean had been so frantic when Sam died. He just couldn't bring himself to believe that if Sam wasn't with him, beside him and breathing, that he was ok. Sam just added it to the list of things to do. Dean, dying, faith.

Dean grinned suddenly. "The djinn let me keep the car."

Sam just shook his head and sighed.

"It's a car, Dean. I think _He_'s got bigger things to worry about."

"You trying to tell me He doesn't appreciate a classic muscle car? He's omniscient right?"

Sam moved closer to the door, leaning away from Dean.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting out of the way in case lightning strikes."

Dean smiled. "Don't worry, Sammy. He has to have a sense of humor. He made you 8 feet tall."

"Just shut up and drive, Dean." Sam shook his head. "And don't blame me if He doesn't give you anything better than a golf cart."

* * *

_Thus ends this little quintet of shape themed stories. A sincere thank you to everyone who's stuck with them. Even to those of you who threw things after the last chapter._


End file.
